For the sake of keeping this thing somewhat current:

a song about riding bikes from Todd Moore on Vimeo.

"Smooth Sailing," another original song from Todd Moore on Vimeo.

I'll be launching a blog for the bicycle tour Karl and I are doing (Akron to San Fran) in the next few days. Check back.

conversation, revelation, committing Self to resignation

It's tough to start writing about something with so many facets as this. It's tough to say things at all when the time for words has passed. Some things, they're just tough.

It takes a breath of old air to awaken new lungs, I know this, and it's been proven once again. Sometimes I find myself in this purgatory between fact and fiction, between now and then, between prose and poetry, between myself and my ghost. I'm not trying to be obscure; I'm trying not to cross lines.

Sometimes, you don't want a conversation to end. With some people, it never does, even in silence, greater than distance, greater than time. I wish certain things, with certain people, were different. It's hard for me to avoid the point, but I have to, because I have to.

I'd like to think I'm a boundary-crosser, but I know the consequences my words can bring, and I've seen some damage I've done in the past. I'd like to say I'll speak my mind about anything, but I have the most incredible secrets that I crave to tell but never will. I know things that would destroy the people I love. It amazes me, the pain love can bring. I don't cross any bridges I can't cross again.

It amazes me, the misery that the potential for joy brings. When the evening hours are heavy upon us, and all things begin to feel poetic, on those unbearably perfect nights, it is so crippling a moment, when you must slice the throat of romance-- at its very conception.

So I catch myself caught in frivolous things. Of this, I am very much aware. It is all I can I do when what I want is there, but not there.

7 AM, still awake, again.

Man, am I depressed? I'm really fucking depressed. I've felt shitty for a good 60-70% of my waking life, but this is just really digging into me. I can't figure out what the problem is either-- which is depressing. It's not because I'm leaving, I don't even think it's because I work an awful job, or that I'm broke and I have a lot of equipment left to buy for the ride. I've just felt like shit for the past few days, every time I find myself alone, and most of the time in the company of others. On the bike, I feel alright, but it's been raining a lot the past few days, and I've been sleeping even more than usual. I slept at least 16 hours each day for the past two days, my only two days off. In fact, I only bothered to get out of bed because someone called me and told me it was time to get rolling.

I took some Valium this week, twice. I had absolutely no desire to take it. I just had it. I hadn't taken so much as an aspirin since 17. That's five years. I've been feeling this way (fucking retarded and sad) persistently, and it seems totally unrelated to the supposedly major changes going on in my life. This is a for-real emptiness, like I was between age 19 and age 21.5, except worse. More sickening, harder to break free of, even temporarily.

To make matters worse, I downloaded the Talons' discography from barkandhiss, and spent a good two hours just reading the lyrics. I picked up the guitar, I played for an hour. Really depressing stuff, the kind of stuff I always play at five AM. When I'm not singing, just focusing on the guitars, I can fuck myself up emotionally. Obviously, it's worse when I'm already fucked-up. Especially the Washburn, with the missing f# string. It's a little more hopeful kind of sadness, I guess.

One part of the lyrics .pdf that got me thinking, and really got me shitty, was an explanatory note for the song "Nicole", in which he showcased a shared sentiment of mine. I'll just copy what he said:

"...the end is about how all the people that want to change things move to New York or Portland when the places that really need them are places like Akron or Cleveland."

The lyric goes: "Truth is, I hate it here, but I kinda feel like this is where I ought to be."

I have believed the same for many years. This hasty exit doesn't come without some remorse, and though I've been consciously aware of it, I wonder if maybe it's having an effect on me from a subconscious level? Essentially, though I'm "starting anew" with a "clean slate" and all that bullshit, I'm also boldly declaring, "I have failed in every major attempt. I have failed to make myself happy with what I have, I have failed to make something great with the wealth of ability I possess. I have failed my community, my friends and family, and, most importantly, I have failed myself--miserably. I have not made myself into a lovable person."

I'm going out on a limb here. I'm giving myself a month on a bike, away from everything and everyone. Camping, crashing on couches, whatever. Can I take the good scraps from the person I've been throughout the years, and piece them together, using newness as the glue, and make a man out of the mess? I have very much been a disgrace, is this change of scenery going to change that?

Sure, I won't be fighting so much against the current. I can ride my bike everywhere, go out to vegan restaurants, etc. Will I be able to form strong and lasting friendships? All the ones I've formed thus far have been born out of a shared misery, or out of not having anyone to play guitars with. I rarely speak with and almost never speak with those friends who have meant the most in the past. There's still Chris, but there's not much left to say. We're broken records, and we don't have to speak to "get it." Korey's the same way, Tanner's the same way. Once you're all on the same page, it's all details. There's no more speaking to do, no more thinking or even feeling to do. The only think left is action; swift, uncompromising action.

A short one tonight

Things have been insane lately. So much preparation, so much thought and research and work and cycling and music-making and chaos...life is hectic. Here's what I'm up to:

1. For those of you who know not yet, I am moving to San Francisco at the end of the summer, with Karl Vorndran. No, I'm not gay. He's pretty straight, too, I guess. That aside, we've decided to ride our bicycles from here (Kent/Akron/Ravenna/whatever) all the way to the fabled land known as California, with hopes at living a life closer to our ideals, with emphasis on Veganism, exclusively human-powered transportation (bikes), and hopefully some sort of musical endeavour. We don't have a plan as to where we're going to live or work, but we're confident in our ingenuity enough to risk it. What risk is it, really? I live at home and am still broke, with very little prospect of getting out of this situation anytime soon. I've tried bands with several folks but for one reason or another, they always fall through. There aren't that many talented individuals left, and my patience is wholly expired.

2. I'm recording an EP/LP with Ben Cureton producing, currently. We'll see how it goes, but I don't want to leave without putting SOMETHING decent out. We're going to try full instrumentation, though it may end up acoustic. Either is fine with me. I like drums a lot, though.

3. So I'm working as much as I can, but still barely bringing in cash enough to scrape by. Work is the murderer of youth and vigor. I've been doing OK at the card tables, but I've had a rough week. It happens, people get really fucking lucky sometimes. It just doesn't normally happen so many times in a row. What goes around comes around, though. I'm sure I'll hit a hot streak before too long and start bringing home the veggie bacon. That was a good one.

4. Karl and I will be launching a website/blog to monitor our progress throughout the trip. We'll be uploading pictures and blogs at the end of each of our rides/days, courtesy of my Blackberry. I will be sure to link you all up as soon as possible. If anyone has any ideas on how we can raise money to eat/buy equipment for the trip, please let one of us know. We would like to have a little money to help start a life in an area with a severely over-inflated economy, else we may be fucked.

I've slept three hours in the last three days, and worked 24 of the last 36 hours, so I'm going to call it a night after binging on these peanuts.

Hit me up, I won't be around much longer. Bike rides and jam sessions preferred; walks in the parks, eating at Aladdin's, and the occasional party/bar night also welcome ideas. Or anything, really.

T.

Back, by popular demand

I turned 22 on November the 2nd, and as I do every year, since 18, when GWB was re-elected as the greatest birthday gift EVER, I was stressing out and feeling like shit for entirety of the month leading up to it, and continuing on, honestly, for about a month after. Leading into my first vegan winter, and my first winter after an incredibly active summer, I didn't even consider my 'birthday blues' having nearly the negative effect on me that they did. I was taking in more than 5000 calories each day for the greater part of the hot season, and still barely maintaining 150 lbs, considering the hundreds of miles of cycling I was doing each week. I got a flat during the Blaq race in Kent in early October, never fixed it, never got on the indoor trainer (which I had been doing 5 or 6 days a week, consistently), dropped my calorie intake down to 1500 or less per day, and somewhere in there, started drinking heavily again. I missed the entire autumn season, due to this and being stuck on third shift permanently. I don't even know how I fell off so hard, but I lost ten pounds of muscle over the month of October.

This misery was amplified by my skepticism in regard to the ability of the American people to do the right thing, and with the most important time EVER for us to do the right thing being just around the corner, life was all the more dismal. Luckily, we came through, in an unbelievable moment of victory for the free world. In the same night, however, California's Prop 8 rekindled the flames of discontent within. They giveth and taketh away. The repulsion building up from this and from thoughts of my own dilemma couldn't be quelled, even by the continually awesome statements from the President-Elect, and growing sentiment that not only the U.S., but the entire world will be in a greatly better position in two and a half months. It helped a little, though.

The one thing I have consistently been keeping up with is playing drums with my boys (look for a full launch in the coming weeks), and I've been working on some acoustic stuff with Chris, so it's pretty likely I'll be out on the show circuit in no time. I started lifting again and eating more to try to regain some muscle. It's considerably more difficult when one doesn't eat animal products, but I've managed to pick up about half of what I lost, and things are looking up. No more third shift pretty soon, hopefully no more gas station at all. I'm getting back on the trainer this weekend, and it'll be all good from there, I'm certain. All else I need is consistent reading and writing time, and I'll be, at least, at the best I've ever been.

I'd like to start blogging my thoughts again, but it's hard to get back on that train ever since I've become so inconsistent about it, because it seems more and more like I'm just briefing my dwindling crowd of readers on current events in my life -- most of which are shitty, and without any insight thrown in, ridiculously boring. Plus, it actually does take some time, and I'm incredibly inefficient with my free time. I find myself ever more frequently composing both mental and tangible lists of all the shit I'm not but should be doing. Scattered about my desk are grocery lists and 'To do' lists that all look like this:

Bread
Soymilk
Broccoli/Cauliflower
Read
Lift/Get on the trainer

These lists almost always include 'READ' and 'EXERCISE', because apparently, I will never read or exercise anymore without being under duress from my late-night, list-making self.

I'd like this to be the first of many blogs to come in rapid succession, as writing these often makes me more critical of the words I use in everyday conversation as well as being more critical of myself as a person in general. The first one back after a long pause always sucks and is usually depressing as hell, so much so that I don't even bother to write another for months and it sucks equally or greater than the last, and so on and so forth. It's just one of those things. Summaries are for the birds. I'm shooting for early early or late late Thursday. Hold me to it.

Hey, World! The worst is over!

This is our apology gift to you and to ourselves for the worst eight years in the history of our great country. Here's to the next eight+ years in a new direction; at the very least, in a direction not toward the bowels of hell.

Congratulations to all, especially to those red voters who know not yet that they've also won.

I have unending gratitude for everyone who helped to make this happen. I believe this is the most important stride in the steps of America in decades, or longer.

I am proud of my people and my country.

glass fingers sliding across my back

Twenty-two is right around the corner. Looking back at the past year, I have to wonder if I'm really progressing, as I would like to believe, or simply falling apart in a fantastic new way. I guess life is dying in the most interesting and creative way you can.

Let's briefly run through my 'life' at 21. I started working regularly January 2, after only doing so off and on for the previous year. That added a major dynamic and for a month or two, inspired me to get out of bed in the morning. For the first half of the year, especially, I was determined to change things, to take charge of my life.

I no longer wanted to be poor and allow fiscal concerns to make me a slave in my own life. I became incredibly frugal, eating lots of ramen and all that jazz. Then I started working two jobs, construction in the AM, gas station in the afternoon. Still, it was all good. I figured the hectic schedule would help me learn to deal with sleeping less than eight hours per day, as opposed to the ten-twelve hours I had become accustomed to. Without anything redeeming in your life, it's hard to get out of bed.

So I was sleeping 4-6 hours a day, whenever I could find time, making $750/wk, after taxes, which was nice, moreso when you consider I work 34 hours a week now and make $175. On top on that, I was freshly 21 and finally able to utilize casinos for income. Tallying up my wins and losses over the course of the 15 trips I made to Mountaineer, I made a profit of somewhere around $2400. Where did all that money go? Alcohol and irritating car costs.

I must mention that during the time I was making a somewhat reliable income playing cash games at the casino twice a week, on top of working 80 hours, I developed a pretty nasty drinking habit. Two double-shots of scotch for lunch, one or two midday, maybe slam a couple of those nasty energy/alcohol drinks before I clocked in at the gas station. Sometimes I'd follow it up with 2 or 3 more double-shots after I got off work, when I went to pick my dad up from the bar. This happened probably 4 days per week. Then there were the weekends, which were a lot worse. I know there were a couple times when my dad was buying me drinks and I still spent $200 or more at the bar. I was becoming a regular old jaded fuck-up, perhaps to an extreme most people don't reach. Most of the time, if I turn into something, it's pretty extreme. Luckily, the next thing I became was a health nut.

This was brought to me in the convenient package of a "love" interest. I vaguely recall blogging about that situation but refuse to read my other blogs from this year because I can already imagine how ridiculous they are, and they would likely lead me to delete the whole thing, and we can't have that. I think maybe I'll use this for something good in the future.

Let me clarify the Kate situation. I am an idealist at heart. I have also been disappointed thoroughly by every single woman I have ever met in my entire life. Until recently, I've never known any female that I felt I could respect. Don't tell me it's because I've been looking in the wrong places. I know. That's not the point. Some folks accuse me of misogyny. Some other folks accused of a very elevated form of misogyny. I'm pretty certain I'm neither, not that I particularly give a fuck, merely defensive. I can usually tell a snake when I see one. The times I've been wrong, however, have been almost always with females. Sue me for being wary.

What I'm trying to say is that Kate represented an ideal. She is a true socialite, very optimistic, she is spontaneous, vegetarian, and gorgeous. All parts of me that are dead, dormant, or yet to be born (well, except for the 'gorgeous' thing). I looked for her to be my counterpoint; someone who could complete me for the time being while giving me courage to grow into a greater molding. At the very least, I wanted to leech some of her good energy before it failed.

...And it failed. It barely even began, I was blindsided, I will not deny that. Had I been on my A-game (that is, not drinking everyday and not working shitty hours), I would have seen it coming a mile away. Too much time alone makes one invariably and cripplingly selfish; I basked in her qualities while hiding all mine away. We are all mostly aware that it's impossible to understand someone even mildly complex in a day, or a week, or a month. It would take years of hard effort for even the most intelligent of folk to understand the greater portion of me. I pride myself on that, so much so that I rarely give a glimpse. How likely are you to start digging without prior knowledge that you're standing on a gold mine?

I did leech some good out of it, and gained some new perspective. Together we went vegan. I'm still running with it, and I will continue to. That is where the rest of my money disappeared to. Groceries are a hell of a bomb to drop on someone who's always just eaten whatever came out of Mom's kitchen. Especially organic groceries and transition foods. When Kate and I had our thing, I stopped playing cards and stopped working two jobs. The major drop in income meant that from June until until September, I was digging into my reserves. Over a thousand spent on drum equipment, and thousand more when I got into cycling. Now I'm in debt, more than a grand. Early 21 Todd would be very disappointed. Late 21 Todd is even more upset with the situation. I might as well have spent this year building a magnificent mausoleum. Now I must settle for this shallow grave dug with dirty fingernails.

All is not lost, but certainly nothing is won. I've some new pastimes about which I'm passionate. Sometimes I'm passionate. I've lost touch with my guitar, and with my voice, with myself in general. I am the ghost that watches the body, helplessly. It passes through me without so much as a shiver. I know I know I exist. I have to find the middle ground.



PS. I always seem to write when I'm feeling super shitty, and never when I'm feeling good. Considering how few blogs I've written this year, I may be doing just fine.